One Step Back
by imag1ne
Summary: Jarod and Miss Parker join forces to stop someone they both care about from making a tragic mistake.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me nor am I making money from this story. My muse just wanted to play with Jarod and Miss Parker for a while.

**One Step Back**

by imagine

His smile was quick and his laugh, though eerily familiar, was deep and infectious. She watched, not bothering to hide her own quiet grin, as he spoke animatedly with a woman of about his own age. Despite the number of people in the vicinity, some calling greetings to him as they passed, his attention never strayed from his companion. Though he never made physical contact with the woman, he had found the courage to step so close to the redhead that, considering the large gestures he made as he spoke, a stolen touch was inevitable.

This was who Jarod was supposed to have been, she thought. If the Centre had not taken control of his life, the Pretender would have had a million moments like the one she was witnessing.

Crossing to her car, she watched the couple as they slowly edged their way to a nearby bench. The woman laughed and impulsively wrapped her arm around him, resting her hand just above the small of his back. Surprised by the touch, he looked up, graced the woman with a shy smile, then slipped his arm around her shoulders.

Memories, thick with regret, flooded back to her but she could not bring herself to look away from the young couple. Though he seemed to be living a normal, happy life, she felt the need to stand guard and protect what he had for him. Despite his numerous abilities, and the confidence he exuded with just a smile, she knew that, like Jarod, at times, he became overwhelmed by his new life. Without someone to help him through his confusion, it was only a matter of time before he did something that would alert the Centre to his whereabouts. More than anything, she wanted to prevent that from happening.

It wasn't until he shifted on the bench, turning his back to her so he could face his companion, that she slid into the rented sedan. After one more glance in his direction, she sighed and started the engine.

The drive to the motel was more than an hour away and, had she not been preoccupied with the overwhelming urge to return to the campus, she would have noticed the reddish-orange shadow that was spreading across the sky. Instead, the image of his smile played in front of her face until she felt she was being taunted. By the time she began to wonder if she had imagined it, the car was rumbling across the motel's gravel parking lot. Almost immediately, her focus shifted to the man standing in the open doorway of her room.

His arms wrapped tightly in front of him, he leaned against the frame and watched her approach. The short sleeves of his T-shirt were stretched tightly against his thick muscles and, under normal circumstances, she would have taken a moment to admire the sharp cut of his form. Tonight, however, it was the dark, accusing eyes that peered at her from beneath even darker locks that demanded her attention.

"How did you get into my room?"

"It wasn't difficult," he replied. A half smile played on his lips as the man pushed away from the door. "I told the manager you were my wife."

Moving past him, she entered the room. "You really need to see someone about those fantasies, you know. It's not healthy."

"Neither is your job, but I don't see you making any career changes. Where have you been?"

"Out."

He dropped his arms, shot a quick glance in each direction of the parking lot, and then closed the door. As he faced her, she turned away and tossed her jacket onto the bed.

"You went to see him, didn't you?"

"You're the genius. You tell me."

"Parker, I am not in the mood for games. If you saw him, you need to tell me."

"Fine. Yes, I saw him," she groaned. Facing him, she folded her arms across her chest and steeled herself for an argument. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Was he all right?"

The sudden shift from anger to a concern startled her almost as much as the fatigue she heard in his voice. When she nodded his response, he let out a sigh that was so soft, she wasn't sure she'd heard it. A heartbeat later, the man had regained his composure, the muscles in his jaw making the lines of his face appear much more rigid than she knew they were.

"What did he say?"

"I said I saw him. I never said I talked to him."

After a slight hesitation, he asked, "Did he see you?"

"I know how to watch people without being seen," she sighed, letting her arms drop.

"So does he, and you didn't answer my question," the man growled. "Did he see you?"

"What if he did?" she shot back. "Would it be so terrible? In case you have forgotten, _he_ called _me_. Odds are he was not only expecting me to show up but planned it."

Taking two steps toward her, he shook his head, then took a step back. She watched him, curious about his sudden anxiousness.

"If he planned it, it was because he wanted to talk to you in private. He wanted to tell you something he didn't feel comfortable discussing on the phone. Did he give you any clue as to what was on his mind? Did he sound upset or frightened?"

She shook her head. His voice was so calm, she wondered if the thoughts were coming to him as he spoke or if he they were something he had already deliberated on.

"Well, if he saw you, he might have followed you from the campus."

The thought had not occurred to her and, after a quick glance at the window, she shrugged and looked back at the man. "So?"

Tilting his head to one side, he glared at her. "So, correct me if I'm wrong, but he specifically told you not to tell anyone he contacted you. I can almost guarantee he will not be happy when he finds out you betrayed his trust."

Her eyes widened and then narrowed sharply. "Are you actually complaining?"

"No, of course not," he replied, quickly dropping his eyes and moving to the far side of the room. "I am very grateful that you confided in me but . . ."

"You're so grateful, you're trying to use it against me."

"No, that is not what I was trying to do," he insisted. "I am just trying to illustrate the way _he_ might perceive this situation. If he found out about our alliance, before we were ready for him to know, there is no telling what he might do."

"Are you trying to scare me, or just piss me off?"

"Neither," he sighed. "For some reason, the boy trusts you, Parker. If you want him to continue to do so, you need to start considering his feelings before you act."

As soon as the words were spoken, her face darkened. Pacing the small area in front of him, her eyes held his and bored into him with an intensity he had not seen in a very long time. Suddenly, he straightened his stance.

"Parker . . ."

"You're jealous."

"What? No." He shook his head as he spoke and took a step toward her, quickly coming to a halt when she glared at him. "Parker, you are completely misunderstanding . . ."

"It took me less than two weeks to do something you have been trying to do for months and it is eating away at you, isn't it? You can't deal with the fact that I succeeded where you failed."

Her words were sharper than he expected but his soft response was immediate, "You know me better than that."

Coming to a standstill, she balled her hands into fists at her side and stared at the man. When the urge to tell him that she was beginning to think she didn't know him at all had passed, Miss Parker moved to the window and yanked at the heavy curtains.

In the time she had been in the motel room, the sun had disappeared completely yet the sky seemed more blue than black. Lights from cars on the adjacent highway caused a glare on the window pane that caused his reflection to materialize like a bodyless ghost. She stared at the image for a moment, noting that there was no longer anything harsh or demanding in his gaze. The longer the silence stretched on, the more she began to wonder if he was, once again, playing games. When she could not bear to consider the thought any longer, she released the curtain and faced him.

"I should have come alone," she admitted, stepping around him. "If I had, we would not be having this discussion. I could have talked to him, found out what he wanted, and helped him. You would never have known."

"Don't fool yourself. I would have known and I would have followed you."

"You would have tried."

Sliding his hand around her upper arm, he held in her place and forced the argumentative tone from his voice. "Parker, it is important that we work together on this. It has been three months since we've heard from him and . . ."

"And that's my fault?" she snapped. Her eyes dropped to where his fingers pressed against her flesh then, slowly, rose back to his face.

Without hesitation, he obeyed her wordless command, letting his hand drop as he finished his thought, "If we are not careful about how we proceed, he may disappear before we get a chance to talk to him."

"Oh, please! You and I both know he won't disappear, Jarod."

"And, exactly, how do we know that?" he dared.

Moving toward the bed, she glared at him over the shoulder, "You just said he called me because he had something to tell me. If he disappears, then he misses his chance and can't make whatever point he's itching to make."

"What point is he trying to make?" he asked.

"How the hell should I know?" she snapped, dropping to the edge of the mattress. "I've known you most of my life and I haven't got a clue to what goes on your head. What makes you think I would know any more about him?"

His eyes widened as they met hers and, when a small smile snaked across her face, just before her eyes dropped, Jarod relaxed. He let out a nervous laugh and sat beside her.

"I think you know more about me than you have ever let on, but that's a subject for a different day," he told her. After the woman smiled, nodded slightly and turned away, Jarod continued haltingly, "I need to ask you something and, I don't want you to get angry."

She rubbed her temples and, without looking up, said, "Go ahead and ask, but I'm not making promises."

"Why was it so important for you see him without me?"

"You really don't get it, do you?"

"Explain it to me."

With a heavy sigh, Miss Parker considered his request then murmured, "I had to make sure he was all right."

"He told you he was all right, when he called, didn't he?" Lifting his head, he shifted on the bed so he could look her in the eye, but the woman refused to do the same.

She nodded.

"Didn't you believe him?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Parker, please, I want to understand."

Abruptly dropping her head back, she stared at the ceiling for a long moment then closed her eyes. His breaths seemed to echo in the tiny room, each one more demanding than the one before.

"I made a promise," she finally whispered. "I needed to make sure he was all right."

He heard the crack in her voice and the silence that followed was awkward. When she leaned forward and wiped her face with her hands, Miss Parker's hair toppled forward. With an irritated wave of her hand, she brushed the locks away, but did not raise her head.

Jarod rose his hand, instinctively wanting to slide it across her back and offer the woman comfort. If it hadn't been for the flurry of insecurities that chose that moment to invade his thoughts, he might have completed the gesture. Instead, the man let his hand hover over her shoulder a few seconds, then curled it into a fist and let it fall into his lap.

"You think he is in danger."

Still hunched over, with her elbows on her knees, she lifted her head and looked at him. "Don't you?"

Her head was cocked to one side and her right eyebrow was propped higher than the left. The facial expression was familiar, with the exception of the fear he saw in her eyes. It held him, silently chipping away at his confidence until he could no longer dismiss the chill that ran down his spine. Suddenly not trusting himself to respond, he stood and crossed the room. Grabbing the leather jacket draped across his still packed bag, he faced her and opened the door.

"I'm going to get us something to eat. We'll pick up this discussion when I get back."

"Can't wait," she mumbled, as the door closed behind him.

* * *

After unpacking the few things she had brought with her, Miss Parker glanced at her watch. The last thing she wanted was for him to find her sitting idly in the room. His ego was big enough as it was, she did not need for him to think she was waiting like a lap dog, for him to return.

Retrieving a change of clothes from the dresser, she stepped into the bathroom. A wicked grin crossed her lips as she imagined him returning to find her in the bath, with steam filling the room. She pulled the curtain over the small window above the tub then twisted the knobs above the faucet, adjusting them until she felt hot water on her hand.

Removing the plug in the drain, she told herself that a shower would garner her better results and stepped away from the tub. Thoughts of torturing the Pretender played in her imagination and Miss Parker's grin became broader. By the time she was done with him, she decided, Jarod was going to wish he had never insisted that he join her on their little road trip.

She was so caught up in her fantasies that when the sound of knocking on the outside door finally penetrated her mind, Miss Parker found that the plug had fallen back into the drain and almost an inch of water had accumulated in the tub.

Quickly turning off the water, she left her belongings where they were and stepped from the bathroom as another knock echoed in the room.. Through the drawn curtains, she made out the silhouette of someone trying to peer through the window. Instinctively, her hand slid around the gun holstered against her spine.

"Miss Parker? Are you in there?"

For a brief moment, the world seemed to come to a halt and her first thought was an annoyed admission that Jarod had been right. He had followed her to the motel. When her visitor called out her name a second time and knocked on the window, she took a deep breath and opened the door.

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he replied, moving past her into the room. "I told you not to come looking for me."

"You didn't, seriously, expect me to stay away, did you?"

Glancing through the bathroom door, he ignored her question and asked, "Are you alone?"

"Do you see anyone else?"

"Are you expecting anyone?" he countered, his eyes narrowing.

She stiffened and crossed her arms in front of her. "You mean, did I call anyone, don't you? You thought I would call for a team of sweepers, as soon as I found you."

"Actually, I thought you might do something even worse," he shot back, mirroring her stance. "I thought you might call the Major, or Jarod."

Raising an eyebrow, she held his stare. "When did your family become a worse option than the Centre?"

"Who said they were my family?" As soon as the words were spoken, the young man dropped his arms and turned away. She watched him slide on to the bed and, in an instant, his appearance shifted from demanding to dejected.

Biting back the guilt, she turned and slid the security chain on the door then sat beside the young man. "Jay . . ."

"Don't call me that," he spat. "It's not a name. It's an initial, at best. At worst, it's incomplete."

Inhaling slowly, she nodded. "I see. So, what should I call you?"

He shrugged and lowered his head. "Jon."

"Then, Jon it is."

He sighed and nodded. "Thank you."

It took less than a minute of silence before the boy lifted his eyes to hers. He searched her face for a long moment and, though the scrutiny made her self conscious, Miss Parker held his gaze. When he finally decided to speak, his voice was soft.

"I want you to give them a message for me."

"Who?" she asked cautiously.

"Jarod's family."

"Have you lost your mind?"

He smiled ruefully and dropped his eyes. "It's not out of the realm of possibilities."

Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her temples, silently cursing the second headache of the night. When she finally looked up, she asked, "Why can't you talk to them yourself?"

"I just can't," he said simply. Turning his eyes on hers, he asked, "Will you do it?"

"They're worried about you," she told him. "As I understand it, you left in the middle of the night, with no explanation. Is that true?"

Dropping his eyes, the young man rose from the bed and started toward the exit.

"Well, I guess I have my answer." Moving in front of him, she folded her hands into fists and rested them on her hips as she blocked his path to the exit. "Now, why don't you tell me why you left."

"It's complicated. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

His face darkened and his eyes suddenly narrowed. It was a look she had seen on Jarod, a look he held whenever he felt cornered. "I said no."

Unaffected by his throaty refusal, Miss Parker let her arms drop to her side and shrugged. "Fine. Then you can call your family yourself."

"I can't do that," he growled. "I can't call them."

"Well, those are your choices," she replied calmly. "You can either tell me what made you abandon the people who care about you, or you can give them your own message. Which is it going to be?"

He considered her ultimatum for a moment, the features of his face hardening as he glared at the woman. "If I call them, they will ask questions."

"Then don't call them and answer my questions."

She watched him struggle with the choice, amazed that he had not considered she might refuse his request. He had come to her on blind faith. He had honestly believed she would do as he asked, without hesitation. When her gut constricted, she told herself it was her ulcer acting up, but a small voice in her head told her she was lying to herself.

With a disgusted shake of his head, the boy made a move toward the door. Without thinking, Miss Parker matched his movements and shook her head. "Sorry, you aren't leaving here without an explanation to either me, or your family."

"You think you're going to be able to stop me?"

Miss Parker smiled at the dare in his voice. Adopting an equally taunting, but slower, voice she looked him in the eye and replied, "You think I won't?"

Suddenly, unsure, Jon took a step back. When the woman's grin was joined by a wink and a murmur that he'd made the right choice, the young man crossed to the far side of the room.

"I thought you would help," he complained, softly.

"I'm trying," she admitted, "but I need to know what's happening. Tell me why you left."

He shook his head, but kept his back to her. "All I wanted was for you to tell them I was all right. Tell them that I wasn't being forced, that I knew what I was doing."

"Doing about what?"

"I just want them to know that it's my choice," he continued, speaking as if she had not. Then, slowly facing her, he added softly, "I want to do this. I want to go back."

Her brows crinkled as the meaning of his words slowly registered at the back of her mind. "Back? Back where?"

"The Centre."

She stared at him, her head slowly moving from side to side in denial. "Like hell you are."

"I appreciate your concern, Miss Parker, but my mind is made up. I . . ."

His words came to a sudden halt as the door opened, awkwardly banging against the strain of the security chain. He glared at her, then at the door as the intruder made a second noisy attempt to enter the room.

"Parker, come on, open the door," he called. "I've got dinner."

"You said you were alone," Jon accused, pushing past her only to stop when Jarod made a third, more aggressive, attempt at opening the door. Pivoting in place, he glared at the woman. "You lied to me."

"Jay? Jay, is that you? Open the door."

"Go away!" the young man yelled. "You aren't supposed to be here."

She grabbed Jon's arm as he began pacing the length of the room. "Wait. I promise, all we want to do is talk to you."

His eyes darted from the door that Jarod continued to force, to the bathroom, to the point where her hand met his arm, before he finally pushed her away.

"I trusted you once," he hissed, "I am not going to do it again."

Turning on his heel, the young man sprinted for the bathroom with Miss Parker close behind. His attempt to lock her out of the small room was thwarted by the woman's body colliding with the hollow door. Though he faltered when she let out a cry of pain, Jon quickly grabbed the small metal trash can from the corner and heaved it toward the window. A loud crack echoed and the can bounced back into the room, but when he pushed at the pane, it would not budge.

"No," he whispered, desperately pounding at the glass.

"Stop it, Jay. Stop it!"

He felt the strong arms around his waist but refused to obey the repeated command. Struggling against the larger man, Jon continued to beat at the window until the Pretender finally pulled him to the ground.

With his arms pinned at his side, and Jarod's weight holding him against the cold tile, tears of frustration filled the young man's eyes. Struggling fiercely, he looked up into Jarod's face, and, unable to do anything else, spit at the man who had rescued him from the Centre.

TBC

I know many of you are waiting for me to continue/finish my other stories but this story kept swimming around in my head and refused to let me concentrate on "Guilty" or "Retribution". So, what do you think? Should I continue with this?


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer in part 1

A/N: I honestly did not expect so many reviews so quickly. Thank you - I really appreciate the kind words. Hope you enjoy this chapter as much. Lisa

**One Step Back  
**by imagine

Jarod flinched as the projectile made contact with his face and that was all Jon needed to push the man away from him. As the Pretender fell back, coming to rest against the bathroom vanity with his hand wiping the spittle away from his face, the younger man pushed himself against the dingy yellow bathtub. They each tensed for another round and their faces hardened with an unspoken challenge. But, before either of them could attack the other, Miss Parker stepped between the two men.

"That's enough," she demanded. "What the hell is the matter with the two of you?"

She saw the hesitation in their eyes and held her breath, hoping it was an indication they were coming to their senses. In the silence that ensued, however, Miss Parker could not help but wonder if she was witnessing the ultimate stand off.

Finally, Jarod averted his eyes, breaking the tension with a soft sigh. "She's right, Jay . . ."

"Jon," Miss Parker quietly corrected.

Glancing at the woman, he nodded. "We're family, _Jon_. We should . . ."

"We are_ not_ family."

"Of course we are."

"Really?" he dared, meeting Jarod's confused gaze. "Then, tell me, Jarod, what relationship do you and I have?"

They stared at each other for a moment then, muttering something inaudible, Jon dropped his eyes, leaving Jarod somewhat relieved. It felt strange, knowing the person he was at odds with was, literally, a younger version of himself. Even more unsettling was the fact that, the boy's point struck a nerve. Since Jon's rescue from Donoterase, Jarod realized he had never, in his mind or his heart, assigned a title to the young man. Though, this meant that he had never thought of Jon as his clone, it also meant the typical titles like son, brother or friend did not apply either. It was as if he were, subconsciously, ignoring Jon's existence completely.

"Hey! What's goin' on in here?" a voice yelled. "Who broke the damn door?"

All three turned their heads toward the closed bathroom door, startled by the newcomer in the next room. Peering out the opening, Miss Parker shook her head, then motioned to Jarod.

"It's the motel manager. Go take care of him so Jon and I can talk," she said.

On his feet, the Pretender looked down at the younger man. With his eyes averted and his hands clenched in tight fists as they rested on his knees, Jon appeared calmer but, somehow, more frustrated than he had moments before.

"I think I should stay here."

"I know yer in there," the manager called. "If ya don't come out, I'm gonna call the cops."

"No," she countered, pushing against his chest. "We'll be all right. You go take care of Mr. Furley, out there, and . . ."

"Who? The manager's name is Mr. Williams. He . . ."

She shook her head and reached around him. "Just go," she said, opening the door. "I'll explain later."

Reluctantly, Jarod did as he was told, shooting a silent apology at Jon before he stepped into the other room.

"Are you all right?" she asked, closing the door behind Jarod.

Nodding, he pushed himself to his feet, using the edge of the tub as support. "I'll live."

"Your hand is bleeding," she told him. Stepping to the sink, she ran a clean wash cloth under the faucet. Through the mirror, she watched Jon slowly lower himself to the closed toilet, staring at the injury. "Does it hurt?"

He shook his head.

He was silent when she knelt by his side and began gently dabbing the cut with a damp wash cloth. She pushed up the sleeve of his shirt to get better access to the injury, managing to get a glimpse of the tattoo on his wrist, in the process. Though the woman did not comment on the zodiac sign etched into his skin, he saw the question skirt across her face and heard the breath catch in her throat. However, it wasn't until Jarod's voice floated through the door, as he apologized to the motel manager and promised to pay for damages, that either of them allowed their expression to change. She smiled. He frowned.

"I told you not to call him."

His voice was low and, though it was no longer filled with anger, she looked up. He met her gaze briefly then took the wash cloth and, keeping it pressed against his hand, moved to the other side of the small room.

"I know."

"But you are not sorry you did."

She took a deep breath. "No."

The muscles in his arms and shoulder tensed and, slowly, the six-foot man brought his eyes to hers. There were half a dozen different emotions she was prepared to combat - anger, disappointment, frustration, hatred, desperation, guilt - but if any were there she did not see evidence of them in his face. Instead, she saw the fourteen-year-old boy she had promised to protect, years before.

Before she could formulate an additional comment, or explanation, there was a light rap on the door. By the time she turned toward the sound, Jarod had appeared in the room.

"Is everything all right, in here?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

Folding his arms over his chest, Jon turned away. Jarod's eyes traveled from the young man to Parker, frowning when she shrugged a response.

"Everything is fine," she said, getting to her feet.

"I'm going to go with Mr. Williams to pick up, and pay for, the supplies needed to make temporary repairs."

She nodded but said nothing, grateful that the Pretender had not decided to challenge her response. If she had any chance of convincing Jon that Jarod was on his side, the last thing they needed, right now, was another altercation.

"He wanted to inspect the damage to the window, but I told him Jon was ill and you were sitting with him," the Pretender continued. Seeing the young man stiffen at the words, he added, "I had to tell him something that would explain the damages."

"So, naturally, you told him you had a schizophrenic visiting who . . ."

"I told him you were my . . . our son," Jarod interrupted.

Jon glared at Jarod through the mirror, tightening the muscles in his jaw rather than commenting, leaving the older man feeling, uncustomarily, unsure. The lie he had told the manager had rolled off his tongue so easily that he hadn't questioned whether or not it might aggravate the situation between him and Jon.

Deciding that, at this point, he was incapable of doing the right thing, in the young man's eyes, Jarod took a deep breath and continued, "Mr. Williams thinks you had a seizure and that I broke down the door and damaged the window while trying to keep you from hurting yourself."

"Not too far from the truth," Miss Parker murmured.

Both men glanced at the woman, one with warning and the other with venom in his eyes. Leaning against the door, she cocked an eyebrow and shifted her attention between them, silently daring one of them to refute the statement.

Slowly looking back at Jon, Jarod added, "Mr. Williams is going to take the necessary measurements for the window from outside, so you may want to keep your voices low."

The younger man slid his attention away from Miss Parker but, keeping his back to the Pretender, said nothing.

"I'll be back in an hour or so," he said, his eyes still on the reflection of the younger man. When there was no reaction, he looked helplessly back at the woman.

"We'll be here, when you get back," she promised. When Jon remained silent, she signed and faced Jarod. "Both of us."

* * *

"Now that he's gone," she sighed, "why don't you and I get out of this oversized outhouse and have a heart-to-heart."

"Any discussion we had would be pointless," he said, tossing the wash cloth in the sink. "It's better if I just leave."

"Take one more step," she warned as he crossed the room, "and, so help me, you will regret it."

With his hand on the fragmented door, Jon turned and frowned at the woman. She saw his muscles flicker with the urge to defy her but, instead, he nodded acceptance and calmly lowered himself to the corner of the bed.

"Okay," she said, sitting beside him, "start talking."

Turning his eyes on her, Jon's brows furrowed in confusion. "About what?"

"Don't get cute. Why did you come here?" she asked. "Why did you want to talk to me?"

"You know why I came here, Miss Parker. I wanted you to deliver a message to Jarod's family. You refused. End of discussion. Now, can I leave?"

When he started to rise, she grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the bed. "Nice try."

"What do you want from me?" he demanded. "Unless you have changed your mind about my request, there is nothing for us to discuss."

"There is plenty for us to discuss, if you would tell me the truth."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he growled. "_I_ have never lied to _you_."

She stiffened at his words, knowing he was referring to the fact that she had not kept his phone call to her between them. He wanted her to believe that, by bringing Jarod with her, she had committed a cardinal sin and shredded any chance she had of him trusting her again.

"That sounded like an accusation."

"It's a statement of fact," he replied, dropping his eyes. "I can't help it if you feel guilty."

It took a great deal of will power for her to suppress the sharp retort that came to mind, but Miss Parker managed. She decided the best way to get through to him was not to become defensive.

"So, all this drama today was because I told Jarod about your phone call?"

He glared at her. "He shouldn't be here."

"Why not? If you truly called me because you wanted a message delivered to the Major, I can't think of a better courier than Jarod."

The young man said nothing, but dropped his eyes back to his hands and, absently, began rubbing the tattoo on his wrist. Hoping he would find the courage to tell her whatever was going through his mind, she waited, but her patience was thin. After no more than a minute, she decided to ignore his silence.

"What was the message?"

He sighed and shook his head. "I told you. I want them to know that going back was my decision. It's important that they don't put themselves in danger by trying to rescue me, because I don't want to be rescued."

"You really want to go back to the Centre."

It was not a question, but the young man responded with a nod of his head.

"And you, honestly, thought I would help you."

Again, though there was no question, or inflection in her voice, Jon nodded.

"Are you taking drugs?"

"What?" his head shot up, his eyes meeting hers with an incredulous stare.

"Have you suffered any recent blows to the head?"

The questions were so calm, so even toned that he could not decide if he heard sarcasm. "No."

"Then, exactly, how did you come to the conclusion that I would help you go back to that place? What bit of logic did you use that I'm missing?"

"You said you would help me," he reminded her. "You promised."

Unprepared for the sincerity in his voice and eyes, Miss Parker suddenly stood and took a few steps from the bed. She felt the weight of his stare, knowing her reaction was probably confusing him.

"Don't you remember?" he asked, softly. "At the Centre, you told me . . ."

"I remember." Facing him, she avoided his eyes and slowly shook her head. "But you misunderstood. I wanted to help you get out. I wanted to help you live a normal life."

"But I don't want that anymore," he answered, looking up at her. "I never wanted that because I never knew what I had _wasn't _normal."

"Now you do," she stepped back to the bed and sat beside him. "You've been on the outside for almost six years and . . ."

"And I want you to help me go back."

* * *

When Jarod returned, he found Miss Parker sitting quietly in the chair by the window. Her arms were folded loosely across her belly, and her eyes were focused on something beyond the curtains. Seemingly deep in thought, she said nothing when he entered or when he asked where was. Until he moved in front of her and placed a gentle hand on her arm, she did not even look in his direction.

"Parker, what is it? Are you all right?" he asked. When she nodded dumbly, he looked around the room, then brought his eyes back to hers. "Where's Jon?"

She took a deep breath and, turning back toward the window, murmured, "Gone."

"Gone? What do you mean, he's gone?"

The panic in his voice was well masked but she heard it and, tightening the hold she had on herself, Miss Parker brought her gaze back on the Pretender. In an instant, she saw the worry his words had not conveyed and, for a brief moment, she was relieved. Despite everything the younger man believed, Jarod cared a great deal about his welfare.

"He went back to the dorm," she sighed.

"Dammit, Parker," he growled, pushing himself to his feet. "How could you let him go? You knew I wanted to talk to him, that I wanted to . . ."

"He'll be back in the morning."

Startled by her soft interruption, Jarod let his words fade. Silently, he watched the woman rise long enough to tuck her legs under her body then moved back to her side. The quiet in her voice, her uncharacteristically calm mannerisms and the way she avoided his face set off alarms in his head.

"He will?"

She nodded.

"He might have lied, you know."

She shook her head. "He didn't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because he thinks he won," she said, pushing herself to her feet. "He thinks I'm going to take him back to the Centre."

"What! You can't possibly . . ."

"Relax. I have no intention of taking him anywhere near Blue Cove."

"You lied to him?"

"Evidently," she sighed. "It seems it's what I do best."

He watched her cross the room and lift her purse from the floor by the desk. She rummaged through the compartments, finally pulling out a small bottle of ibuprofen. Moving around her, Jarod disappeared into the bathroom. When he returned, he held out a glass of water then took the bottle from her and opened the child proof cap. Placing two pills in her palm, he waited until she swallowed them with the water then slid his hand into hers.

"Parker, tell me what happened while I was gone," he said, gently turning her to face him.

When she looked up, he saw the emotion she had been suppressing finally surface. Her eyes softened, filling with tears she refused to shed. Meanwhile, the lines of her face were suddenly more pronounced and her lower lip was tucked between her teeth. Without hesitation, Jarod slid his arms around the woman and pulled her into his chest. Though her arms slipped around his waist and she brought their bodies closer, he did not feel the tension in her muscles subside until almost ten minutes of silence had passed.

Finally pulling away, Miss Parker wiped her eyes and moved to the bed. Jarod followed and sat beside her.

"He wants to go back," she said, ignoring the crack in her voice. "He won't tell me why."

"And, yet, you agreed?"

It would have been easy to allow his question to spark another argument. If it hadn't been for the confusion on his face, and the concern in his voice, she might have handled his question much differently. But, she knew he wasn't accusing her, he was just trying to make sense of what was happening around him. For the life of her, Miss Parker wished she had the answers he needed.

She nodded.

"Why?"

Swallowing hard, she took a deep breath. "Because, if I didn't, he would have disappeared and, possibly, done something stupid like call Raines. I bought us some time."

"Time for what?"

"Time to find out what happened to make him want to go back, and convince him it's a bad idea. It shouldn't be difficult to stretch the drive from here to Delaware into at least four days."

He considered her words carefully then rose from the bed. "You're playing a dangerous game, Parker. If he figures out that you've lied to him . . ."

"He won't," she replied, massaging the back of her neck. "He's going to be too angry about other things."

Still simming the various outcomes of what she was suggesting, Jarod asked, "Like what?"

"Like the fact you're coming with us."

TBC

Feedback is a wonderful thing ;-)


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer in part 1

**One Step Back**

by imagine

Part 3

From the moment she found out about the Centre, and the life he had before, her world seemed to tilt. Her equilibrium was deteriorating in small increments and, as it did so, it created macabre and violent images that hissed promises he had left out the most harrowing of details. When he realized the stress that his confessions had caused, he apologized profusely for days but refused to further discuss the Centre, or his plans to return. She knew his intent was to spare her the worry and, as a result, could not find the courage to tell him that his silence was increasing her anxiety.

Snuggling closer to him, she rested her head on his shoulder and draped her arm around his bare belly. Though he murmured something she could not understand, in his sleep, she instinctively whispered that everything was all right and closed her eyes. Concentrating on the rhythm of his heart and the vibration of his breaths, she hoped the comforting sounds would lull her to sleep. Instead, she felt his body tense and heard his breaths become shallow and erratic.

"It's okay," she whispered, when her name crossed his lips in a soft whimper. "I'm right here. Open your eyes."

His head bobbed to the left, then to the right, but his eyes never opened. She swallowed hard and slid both hands under his shoulders, lifting the man into her lap like an injured child. The muscles in his face were rigid, beads of sweat saturated his forehead and his hands were balled into fists at his side. When his body began to shake, she held him tighter and began rocking, softly pleading for him to wake up.

"Open your eyes, Jay," she urged, trying to keep her own voice calm and reassuring. "You're dreaming. Open your eyes. I promise, you're safe."

Though his lips were pressed tightly together, he released a string of incoherent sounds of desperation. Kissing him on the forehead, she continued whispering nonsense while gently rocking him in her arms until, suddenly, the man gasped and opened his eyes. Instinctively, he pulled from her hold and scooted to the edge of the bed.

"It's okay," she whispered.

Slowly, his expression deteriorated from fear into confusion, recognition and, finally, relief. He licked his lips and glanced around the room, the muscles in his shoulders rippling as the tension slowly abated.

"Abby," he whispered. There was something in his eyes that made her nod, confirming her identity and, as she did, he let out a soft sigh. "Are . . . are you okay?"

She nodded again, keeping her eyes locked onto his. "It was just another nightmare."

Sitting upright, with his knees bent and his head lowered, he ran his fingers through his hair and nodded. "I know."

"It was just another nightmare," she repeated, sliding her arms around his shoulders. "Everything is all right."

"It was so real."

Kissing him gently on the neck, she waited until his arm slid around her then lowered him to the mattress. "You're safe and so am I."

"I love you," he said. Looking up at her, he used his free hand to push away the strands of hair that covered her eyes. "You know that, right?"

"Yes," she smiled. Bringing the tattooed wrist to her lips, she added, "And I love you."

His grip tightened around her and, without warning, he rolled her to her back. The movement was as gentle as it was quick, resulting in his body positioned across hers. Though he did not burden her with his full weight, she remained still as he delicately traced the lines and curves of her face with his fingers.

For a moment, she felt as if she had not lied to him. They were together. For now, they were safe.

The digits of his free hand slid through her long hair then gathered it in his palm as he leaned forward. A split second before his mouth captured hers, she saw his eyes flash with something she would later decide was a trick of the light. At the time, however, she could not help thinking that he was frightened.

* * *

"This isn't a good idea."

"Of course it is. You just don't like that it's mine."

He sighed and, facing her, glared at the woman with annoyance. "Will you please stop? Over the years, you have done things that have both amazed and annoyed me. You have chased me from one end of this country to another, threatened me with bodily harm and protected me in ways I will never forget."

"Was that a compliment?"

He frowned and turned away, dropping his eyes back to the road map spread across the bed. "You are one of the strongest and most capable people I have ever known, Parker. I have never thought of myself as superior to you."

She waited, wondering if he was going to continue. When he was silent, she sighed and moved from the bed. "If this is going to work," she said, "you need to be straight with me."

He looked up at her, his brows furrowing in confusion. "I have never lied to you."

Letting out a small laugh, she looked at him over her shoulder and smiled. "No, but you have kept things from me, haven't you?"

"For your own good."

"I guess it's a good thing that you don't feel superior," she murmured, shaking her head.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's not important," she sighed, facing him. "Right now, we need to concentrate on Jon. He's going to be here in a few hours and, if this has any chance of working, we're going to have to present a united front. When we tell him that you're . . ."

"I don't think I should come along," he interrupted. "It would just make him more antagonistic."

"Or it might make him feel more secure," she countered.

He smiled ruefully and shook his head. "I doubt it."

"How much time have you spent with him, since he left the Centre?"

"You know my situation, Parker. I see my family whenever I am able."

"Do you talk to him?"

"Of course I do," he growled, rising from the bed.

"Stop being so defensive and tell me what you talk about," she pressed.

Jarod shrugged. "I don't know. Sports. The family. Books. Movies."

"Wonderful," she groused. "Exactly what I thought."

"Now who is being superior?" he dared. Folding his arms across his chest, he shook his head. "What did you want us to discuss? World peace?"

"You really don't get it, do you?" she asked. Standing at the far side of the room, she searched his face for some indication he was holding back, trying to make a fool of her. "He was raised by Raines. His entire life was darker than either of us can imagine."

"I can imagine it," he insisted sadly. "And I did my best to counter it. I left him with my father, where you would be safe, where he would feel loved and . . ."

"Your father and Emily don't have a clue about what really happens inside the Centre," she finished, talking over his interruption, "If there is anyone on this planet that understands what life is like, at that place, it's you. Have you ever talked about _that_?"

When the Pretender was silent, Miss Parker moved closer. "What about his assimilation into the real world? Have you ever discussed, with him, the things you did and felt after your escape?"

"It's never come up," he defended, weakly.

"I don't imagine it has," she conceded. "It cannot be an easy subject for either of you. But, over the years, you've managed to share pieces of your life with total strangers, Jarod. If you can do it with them, you should be able to do it with him."

"I . ."

"Don't try to deny it," she warned, raising one eyebrow. "I'm the one who interviewed the people you helped, after you were gone, remember? I know you told them things about the Centre, about me, about your kidnapping . . ."

His brows furrowed and Jarod looked up at her. "I never told anyone anything that would put them in danger. What I said was always relevant to . . ."

"It's Jon's turn to be relevant," she said, interrupting him again. "He not only deserves a relationship with you, he needs it if he has any chance of surviving on the outside. Jon isn't part of one of your pretends, Jarod. You can't change his life overnight and then disappear. It's not fair."

"I didn't just disappear," he argued. "I've been in contact. I've tried to talk to him."

"Well, try harder," she snapped. "It's been six years since you took him out of that hell hole, it's time you stopped feeling uncomfortable around him."

"I don't . . ."

"Of course you do. If I can sense it, you can be damned sure he can, too."

Jarod's eyes flashed with anger as they met hers. "Are you insinuating that he is going back because of me?"

"No," she admitted, "but are you sure he's not?"

* * *

He was sitting at the small kitchen table, staring at the photo he had trapped in his cell phone, when her arms slid around his shoulders.

"When did you take that? I look like death warmed over."

"No," he whispered, his eyes still trained on the picture. "You're beautiful."

"You need your eyes checked."

He waited until she was sitting beside him then snapped the phone closed and slid it into his pocket.

"When do you have to leave?" she asked, tentatively.

Glancing a the backpack he'd left by the door, he took a deep breath and slid his hand into hers. "Soon."

"Don't go," she whispered. "Please. We need you here."

Closing his eyes at her words, he slid his arms around the young woman and pulled her into his lap, "It will be all right. I promise."

"You don't have to go back there," she continued, speaking as if he had not, "We could go somewhere . . ."

He shook his head and pulled her closer. "They'd find us. Besides, it's not forever. I'll be back before . . ."

"Stop making promises you don't know you can keep," she snapped.

Suddenly freeing herself from his hold, she stood and stared down at him. Her red hair was pushed behind her ears, perfectly framing the pale, but chiseled, features of her face, and her green eyes sparkled with defiance. Despite the photo that offered him a completely different image of her, he knew that this was the way he would remember her.

"Abby, we've been over this. I know what I'm doing. Please, trust me," he begged. Reaching out for her hand, he frowned when she pulled away and moved to the far side of the kitchen. With her back to him, he saw her shoulders begin to tremble and found himself fighting the urge to do as she asked.

"There has to be another way," she managed.

"You don't know these people. If they find out about you and the . . ."

"They won't."

"They will," he countered, moving back to her side. Turning her to face him, he bent his knees so they were at eye level and cupped her face in his hands. "The only way we can be together is if I leave now."

"What about your family? If we . . ."

"I can't involve them in this. Not yet," he answered. "It's bad enough Jarod is involved but, at least, I can handle him."

"I'm glad he's involved," she admitted, "Maybe he and that Miss Parker can talk some sense into you."

"Neither of them know why I'm going back," he replied, "and I need it to stay that way."

"Like I could tell them, even if I wanted to," she complained. "They don't know about me, do they?"

"No. I told you, the fewer people who know, the better."

"Y'know, if the circumstances were different, I would think you were ashamed of me."

He smiled and brought her to his chest. "But you know that's not true. When this is over, I promise, I'll take out a full page ad in every major newspaper in the country if you want."

"I just want you to come back," she whispered. Looking up at him, she kept her arms around his waist and added, "And the best way for that to happen is for you to have help. Please, tell them what you're doing."

"I can't. I have to do this alone."

"Why?"

"I just do and I need to know that everyone I love is safe. That's why you have to promise me that you're going to go back to your parents. As soon as . . ."

"And tell them what?" she dared. "That you abandoned me? Aside from the fact that I'm a horrible liar, they liked you, Jay. They are not going to believe you would leave me, not now."

When they met, her biggest worry had been getting a passing grade in Physics. Now, thanks to him, her grade point average was up and her feeling of security was down. He had turned her entire world upside down for no reason except he loved her.

If he was less selfish, and more like Jarod, he told himself, he would have seen this coming. But, despite their common DNA, he wasn't Jarod. He had let himself become consumed by Abby and, in a very short time, she became the most important person in his life. When they were together, he managed to avoid thinking about the Centre and the danger he was putting her in. When he was alone, however, he was quite aware of what he was doing. It took almost three months before he confessed and offered to disappear from her life, forever.

By Jarod's standards, there was no doubt that he had manipulated her. He had simmed her, at various times during their relationship and, as a result, continually postponed telling her about the Centre and his life. Though he promised he would abide by her decision, deep down, he knew that she was as immersed in their relationship as he was. So, when she told him she loved him and would stand by him, regardless of the danger, he had not been surprised. Neither of them wanted to be without the other and the thought of undoing what they had done was never voiced.

He knew he should feel guilty but told himself that what he was doing would make up for his selfishness. He wanted her to be in his life so badly that he was willing to return to the Centre to make it happen.

Slipping his hand into hers, he led the woman into the kitchen. When she was sitting at the table, he knelt at her feet and gently wiped away the tears that were starting to trickle down her face.

"Your parents will believe anything you tell them and they will take care of you," he promised. "But, if you don't feel safe, if the hairs on the back of your neck suddenly stand up, I want you to leave. Trust your instincts. You remember what we talked about, right? You remember what I told you to do?"

She nodded.

"Good. Do you have the phone numbers I gave you?"

She nodded.

"If you need help, you call them. Just don't tell them where I am."

"I don't like this, Jay."

"I know. Neither do I," he replied, slipping onto a nearby chair. "But I don't have any choice."

"There's always a choice."

"Not this time. I promise."

TBC

Feedback is a wonderful thing ;-)

Note: Once again - thanks for all the great feedback on this story. I'm going to be gone for about two weeks, starting Friday so there won't be another post to this story, until after I get back. And- for those of you getting ready to ask about "Guilty" I'll try to get a chapter out before I go ;-)


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer in part 1

**One Step Back  
**by imagine

Part 4

Miss Parker emerged from the small bathroom, brushing her still damp hair, to find the Pretender had retreated to the curb outside her room. Deep in thought, he was hunched over, his elbows resting heavily on his knees while he stared out at the cars passing on the nearby highway. She stepped through the door and, squinting into the early morning light, followed his line of sight as she crouched beside him. Though she saw nothing of particular interest, she did not turn away from the brightening horizon.

"Bathroom's free, if you're interested."

He nodded, but said nothing.

"He's going to be here soon," she said, looking at her watch. "Within the hour."

Almost a full minute of silence passed between them before he turned his gaze on her. His hands hung between his open legs, clenching each other tightly and though the muscles in his jaw were tight, his lips were parted slightly. But, what concerned her the most was the fact that his eyes never met hers. Instead, they danced across her face as if they were searching for answers to questions he hadn't voiced.

"I didn't mean to intrude," she apologized, rising to her feet. "I'll be inside, if you need me."

"Do you really think it is possible that Jay . . . Jon is returning to the Centre because I have neglected him?"

Facing him, she shrugged and answered, "I honestly don't know but, in the grand scheme of things, what I think is unimportant. We have to concentrate on what he's thinking."

His attention back on the horizon, Jarod nodded. "Easier said than done."

Jarod wiped his face with both hands then pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. A few seconds later, he raked his fingers through his hair and dropped both hands to his lap. She watched him fidget tiredly on the curb for a few moments thinking his movements were unsure and seemed self-conscious.

"I can't sim him. I've tried," he murmured.

She frowned. "You don't need to run a simulation, Jarod. All you need to do is follow your instincts."

"You heard him last night. He doesn't want me here. What if my presence makes things worse? What if it makes him more determined to go back?"

"I never realized you were a 'glass is half empty' kind of guy. Have you considered that you being here might convince him to stay on the outside?"

He shook his head. "It's highly doubtful."

"You told me, earlier, that no one had heard from him in three months and that you were worried."

He looked at the brunette and, though there was no question, he nodded in agreement.

"Then tell _him_ you were worried. It could make a difference."

Releasing a small, sardonic laugh, Jarod shook his head. "He wouldn't believe me."

Jarod stood abruptly and took a few steps away, keeping his back to the woman. Though her first instinct was to force him to face her, Miss Parker did not approach the man. Instead, she crossed her arms and leaned against the building.

"You know, " she said, "there is a distinct possibility that neither your presence, nor mine, is going to make one bit of difference to him." Her eyes darted to where he stood. Though his back was still to her, she saw his head shift to the side as if he were waiting for her to continue. Turning her eyes back to the sky, she obliged. "The real question, Jarod, is, will being with him for the next few days, and trying to change his mind, make a difference to you?"

"It's too late," he whispered, shaking his head. "It's too late for me to make everything right."

"Regardless of what you've believed all these years, Jarod, you are human. You do not have the ability to make _everything_ right for _everyone_," she snapped. Pushing away from the wall, she let her arms drop to her side and moved behind him. "Besides, that's not what I asked you."

"You don't understand." He faced her, his eyes mirroring the tired tone of his voice. "Everything you accused me of is true. I did abandon the boy."

"Jon," she corrected, "is hardly a boy anymore."

Glaring at her, he crossed his arms but lowered his eyes as he began to speak. "I left him with my father because I knew he would provide the love and security the boy ... Jon needed."

"No one is disputing that the Major and Emily . . ."

"Then, without even realizing I was doing it, I started making excuses for visiting. My trips home became more infrequent," he continued, talking over her interruption as he shifted from one foot to the other, "and my phone calls were made at times when he was at school."

She didn't need to see his face to know the confession was hard for him. His voice was gravelly and several of his words broke in mid-syllable but, despite the overwhelming urge to offer comfort, she was silent.

"Like you said, I was avoiding him. I told myself that the awkwardness between us was because he was unsure of his role in our family. But it wasn't Jon who was feeling out of place during our visits - it was me. And, the longer I stayed away, the worse it became."

Though she wasn't startled by his admission, Miss Parker had no idea how to react to what Jarod was telling her. In all the years she'd known him, this was the first time she had seen his insecurities about his family. The realization that he had managed to hide them from her was a surprise because she had always believed she knew him better than anyone, even Sydney.

"When I found out he left home, I wasn't overly concerned. I told my father not to worry, that Jay ... Jon could take care of himself."

"And he can."

He sighed. "I know but, after seven months, the words begin to sound hollow."

"Seven months?" she repeated, her eyes widening. "You told me he'd been gone three months."

"I told you we hadn't heard from him in three months."

"So, he left home in December, not March?"

"December third, to be exact. My father went into his room at around 8:30, thinking Jay had overslept, and discovered he was missing."

"He, naturally, assumed that the Centre was responsible."

Jarod nodded slightly but kept his gaze on the rising sun. "A few hours later, though, Jay called and said he left because he needed to explore the world on his own. He wanted to go to college, to get a job, to have a normal life."

"He was spreading his wings, finding out who he was. That's not a bad thing."

"That's what I said," he sighed. "And, every Wednesday, for four months, Jon called home to speak with my father and Emily. When they still weren't convinced he was safe, I decided to ease their minds. I made three different attempts to trace the calls. I wanted to find him, to talk him into coming home - even for just a few days."

"You never told me that," she murmured. "What happened?"

"The phone calls were all dead-ends."

"_You_ couldn't trace them?"

"I hate to burst your bubble but I _did_ trace them," he answered, shooting her a quick smile over his shoulder. "Each one originated from different university."

"So how does that qualify as a dead end?"

"By the time I got to the campuses, there was no sign of him and no one I spoke with would admit knowing him," he explained. Then, with a sigh and a shake of his head, he added, "I still don't know if he was actually traveling from school to school, and I was missing him; or, if he was somewhere else, bouncing the signal between multiple satellites and central offices."

"Gee, where have I heard that scenario before?" she asked, crooking her eyebrow.

For a moment, Jarod's voice mirrored the proud smile that graced his face. The havoc he had wreaked on her calling card by forwarding one of his calls through more than a dozen locations, international as well as domestic, was one of his finest moments. Seconds later, however, his expression faded and he turned away.

"When did he stop calling?" she asked, quietly.

"The last message he left was on March 7th."

"He didn't talk to anyone?"

Jarod shook his head. "No one was home. They weren't expecting the call because it wasn't a Wednesday. It was Monday."

"What did he say?"

"That he was happier than he had ever been and that he would tell us more, when the time was right. He promised it would be soon and he promised it was good news. He never called back."

Remembering the late night phone call she'd received from Jarod, in mid March, she sighed and leaned against the brick wall of the motel.

"_I thought we were on the same side, when it came to him, Parker. How could you let them take him?"_

"_What the hell are you talking about?"_

"_Jay. He's gone," Jarod growled. _

"_And you think I had something to do with it?"_

"_I think the Centre had something to do with it," he growled. "God help you, if I find out you were involved."_

There was no denying the fear and anger she'd heard in his voice but finding out that the younger man was missing had been a shock for her. By the time she'd come to her senses enough to ask a question, the Pretender had disconnected the call. The next morning, she ordered Broots do a thorough search of Centre records. If the boy was a prisoner, she was determined to find him. When the investigation came up empty, it had left her with a sense of helplessness and guilt she hadn't felt since Thomas' death.

"The more time that passed, without hearing from him, the more anxious we all became. I was sure that the Centre had found him and . . ." Letting his words fade, Jarod shook his head and took a few steps beyond the open motel room door.

"When he called me, two weeks ago, it was his first contact in three months."

Jarod nodded.

"And you still don't know whether you should be relieved or concerned, because he called me and not a family member."

Sighing heavily, Jarod glanced at her and retreated into the empty room. "Something like that."

* * *

Leaving her turned out to be more difficult than he had imagined. Abby's emotions had been so raw and desperate that, even though he was confident what he was doing was right, he felt an enormous sense of guilt. His leaving was creating more stress than she should have to deal with and, ironically, putting her in almost as much risk as if he had stayed.

By the time he left the apartment and slid into the waiting taxi, he was emotionally drained and experiencing the worst case of self-doubt he had ever known.

"The bus station, please," he said to the driver.

Looking up at the building, through the back window of the car as it drove away, he stared at the second window from the right, on the third floor. He saw the curtains shift, and Abby's hesitant wave, as the taxi turned out of the driveway. Somehow, it made him feel worse.

With a heavy sigh, he turned forward in his seat and pulled out his cell phone. He stared at the photo he had taken the week before and slowly outlined her face with his finger. The only thing he could hope for was that she would do as he asked and return to her parents home in Colorado. They would take care of her.

"I won't be gone long," he promised, softly. "And, when I get back, I will never leave again."

Sliding the phone back into his pocket, he wiped his eyes and released another heavy breath. As difficult as it was to leave her alone, he trusted that Abby would do whatever was necessary to protect their family. In turn, he hoped that she trusted him to do the same.

"So, where are you headed?" the cabbie asked, breaking the silence.

Using the rear view mirror to make eye contact with the man, he forced a smile and replied, "The East coast."

"Is that home?"

"It's where I grew up," he answered, hoping the man wouldn't push the issue.

Nodding knowingly, the driver turned his attention back on the road. "Sentimental journey, huh?"

"Not quite," he replied, shifting his eyes to the window on his left. "I'm going back to take care of some family business."

* * *

Knowing she was watching, Jarod collected his things and disappeared into the bathroom. He had never intended to admit the things he had and it unnerved him to realize how easy it had been. She had listened, without judgement, without snide remarks and, most importantly, without pity. Unburdening to her had, for the most part, felt good. Unfortunately, in the process of sharing a piece of himself he had been determined to keep hidden, Jarod had a gnawing sense that he had failed.

"Where do we go from here?" he whispered, staring at himself in the mirror.

Shaking his head, he undressed quickly and stepped into the shower. The water was hot and steam quickly filled the small room as he considered his options where Jay and Miss Parker were concerned. When he stepped out of the pulsing stream of water and wrapped a dingy white towel around his waist, Jarod had made preliminary decisions.

By the time he finished shaving and dressed, he had convinced himself that following her advice was the best course of action. He would follow his instincts and hope for the best.

Gathering his things, he stepped from the bathroom to find Miss Parker sitting on the bed. Studying the road atlas he'd left open on the desk, she was reviewing the directions he'd mapped out, she looked up as he walked passed her.

"These are incomplete," she said, holding up the piece of lined paper he'd used to write out their course. "The directions stop in Maryland."

He nodded as he pushed his belongings into the soft-sided suitcase he had left by the front door.

"Why?"

"Because I don't intend to let any of us get any closer to Blue Cove than the Maryland/Delaware border."

"You know, Jon may have other ideas."

Facing her, he swung the bag over his shoulder. "Then, I guess it's up to us to convince him we know better."

* * *

He purchased a one-way ticket for the 9 a.m. bus to Savannah, Georgia, using the name Jon Charles. Despite what he told Jarod and Miss Parker, and the fact that he'd changed his last name several times in the last seven months, he liked the name Jay. It was the name he'd chosen and carefully guarded, for six years, and it was the name he had every intention of reclaiming.

The identity was one he had created three months before, after his decision to return to Blue Cove. He hoped that by building a history for his alter ego that would attract the attention of the Centre, and then keeping him on the move, Abby would be safe. So far, it had worked.

After spending almost forty minutes making meaningless conversation with waiting passengers, as well as employees, he slipped into the Men's room.

When he emerged, he had replaced the ripped jeans, black jacket and AC/DC T-shirt with khaki's and a dark blue polo shirt. His hair was no longer covered by an Atlanta Braves baseball cap and he was clean shaven. The identification tags on his backpack now held a fictitious name and address, as well as the markings of Chicago's Greyhound terminal. Though no one seemed to take notice of him, he slipped a pair of tinted glasses over his eyes and started across the station.

A few minutes later, a young man of Jon's approximate height exited the Men's room wearing the AC/DC T-shirt and Braves cap. Though, at a distance, the actor and he resembled each other, he knew that, up close, was a different story. For that reason, he had to be the one to purchase the ticket and make himself seen in the station. Shooting the man a quick look, over his shoulder, Jon nodded and stepped through the exit, into a waiting taxi.

The woman behind the wheel glanced at him and put the vehicle in gear without asking his destination.

"The Francis Motel," he said. "Route 2."

She nodded and looked at him in the rear view mirror. "Really? Hmph. I haven't taken anyone there in a long time. I mean, it's clean and all. It's just not exactly the Motel 6."

When he responded with a shy smile and a nod, the woman continued, "Don't get me wrong," she said, steering the vehicle onto the highway, "a fare is a fare. I'll take you anywhere you want to go. You just don't look like the kind of kid that would be staying at a dump like that."

"It's not a problem," he assured her, looking out the side window. "I've stayed in worse."

* * *

"I guess that's everything," she said, slamming the trunk of the car closed. "All we need is Jon."

Jarod retrieved his wallet from his back pocket and started toward the office. "I'll get some bottles of water. We don't need anything else if we want to drag this road trip out as long as possible. We want to stop frequently."

She watched him move down the cracked sidewalk until he was at the small alcove that housed the vending machines. Something had changed while he was in the shower. There was no indication that he was ever concerned about how Jon was going to react to his presence. In addition, Jarod no longer seemed to be obsessing about the relationship or, rather, lack of one, he had with his younger self.

It amazed her that he could gain control of his emotions so quickly and, not only hide them from the rest of the world, but hide them from himself, as well.

Sydney trained him well, she thought solemnly, the Centre would be proud.

He paid the driver before the taxi had come to a complete stop in front of the Motel office and pulled on the door handle. The woman turned in her seat and held up the money, her face etched with confusion.

"Hey, Kid, wait. You forgot your change."

"Keep it," he smiled, slamming the door.

She looked down at the fifty dollar bill then, with a shrug and a smile, pushed the gear shift into drive. A forty-two dollar tip and it was barely 8 o'clock in the morning. This was going to be a good day.

Hiking the backpack over his shoulder, he turned away from the driveway and started down the cracked sidewalk that led to Miss Parker's room. He could see the woman leaning against the hood of her car, her hands resting on her lap. When they made eye contact, she stood and stepped to the middle of the sidewalk, her eyes darting around him and her arms automatically crossing in front of her.

There was no doubt in his mind that the only reason the brunette had agreed to take him back to Blue Cove was because she was curious and, maybe, worried about his motives. He hoped that, by the time they reached the Centre, she would understand how important it was to him that he return. And, in turn, he hoped she would stop worrying. He was no longer fourteen - he could handle what needed to be done, on his own.

As he continued toward her, he was distracted by a noise to his left. Curious, he took a step back and glanced at Miss Parker. Immediately, her arms fell to her side but she did not make a move toward him. When he heard the noise, a second time, he took a deep breath and peered around the corner. Without hesitation, he took another step back and released a mild obscenity as Jarod turned away from the vending machine, two bottles of water in each hand.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed.

Jarod looked down at the bottles in his hand, then met the younger man's gaze. "I thought we might get thirsty," he said, innocently.

His eyes narrowed and the grip on his backpack tightened.

"Parker is waiting at the car," Jarod continued, moving past him. "She insists on taking the first shift behind the wheel. I'll take the next shift, if that's okay with you."

"You are not supposed to be here," he growled, following Jarod to the car. Turning on Miss Parker, he added, "You lied to me. Again."

"I did no such thing," she snapped, advancing on the boy. "We never discussed Jarod or the fact that you wanted this trip to be just the two of us."

"It was implied."

"Only if it's understood by both parties," she replied, crossing her arms. "This car is leaving, headed East, in exactly five minutes. So, what's it going to be? Are you coming with us, or are you going to call Raines to come pick you up? Because, without me, I can guarantee that he's the only other way you're stepping foot in Delaware. Whether or not he takes you to the Centre, however, is up to him. I understand he likes keeping his charges hidden away."

His eyes darted between Miss Parker and Jarod, as the man stepped to the passenger side of the car. With his arms folded on the roof, he smiled at the younger man and tilted his head. "It's your call, Jon."

"I could call Lyle."

Miss Parker sighed and shook her head. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a cell phone. "Would you like me to dial his number for you?"

"Think about what you're doing," Jarod said calmly, pushing away from the car. "I admit, it would be for you to call Lyle, or Raines, or anyone else at that place. But, if you'd wanted them to escort you back, you would have called them two weeks ago. Instead, you called Parker."

"I had my reasons."

"Of course you did," the older man replied. "The question is, are those reasons any less important, now that I'm part of the package?"

He shifted his gaze from Jarod to Miss Parker. Still holding the cell phone, the woman met his eyes and lifted one eyebrow, silently daring him to make a decision. In the seconds that passed, he carefully considered his plan and, convincing himself that Jarod's presence would not make a difference, reluctantly stepped to the car and pulled open the rear passenger seat.

TBC

Feedback is a wonderful thing ;-)


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer in part 1

One Step Back  
by imagine

Part 5?

"Is he asleep?"

Jarod glanced at their passenger before shaking his head and facing the road. "He's concentrating on something, very deeply, though. He appears to have blocked out all outside distractions, including us."

"Is that good?"

"That depends what he is concentrating on," he answered, glancing once more at the young man in the backseat. "I wish I knew what it was."

"And I wish he would take those damn earplugs out and say something," she muttered.

"I know it's difficult but you and I need to be patient, Miss Parker," the Pretender replied softly. "We have a long ride ahead of us."

"Only if things change. I'm telling you now, if he doesn't open up soon, I'll leave him on the side of the road."

Jarod laughed. "You would, wouldn't you?"

"Damn straight."

"Well, I don't think it will come to that," he smiled, settling back in his seat. "Jon obviously has something on his mind. The longer he keeps it to himself, the harder it will be to do so. Before long, the silence will get to him."

"You sound sure."

"I am."

She glanced in the rear view mirror, the raised an eyebrow and looked at the man sitting beside her.

"Because it would get to me," he said, answering her unspoken question.

With one hand tightly gripping the steering wheel, Miss Parker frowned and leaned back in her seat. Jarod watched her, his smile fading as her eyes flicked between the road and the rear view mirror. Her mind and eyes were suddenly more focused on Jon than they were her driving.

"Maybe we should pull over," he suggested, pointing to a sign on the side of the road. "There's a rest area at the next exit. We can fill up the tank, stretch our legs and get some lunch."

Absently, the woman dropped her eyes to the gas gauge and nodded.

* * *

In the three-and-a-half hours that passed, he said very little. With his long legs sprawled across the back seat, Jon kept his eyes closed, his arms folded across his chest and the volume on his iPod high. When Jarod asked what he was listening to, Jon ignored him. When the man continued talking, babbling about the music he liked, Jon squeezed his eyes tighter and turned his head toward the back of his seat. The last thing he wanted was to get drawn in to a normal conversation, no matter how brief, with his older self. Innocent topics, such as music, would open the door to other topics and, the longer they talked, the greater the possibility that they would form a hesitant camaraderie. Jon had no intention of letting that happen.

Despite his refusal to answer the question aloud, though, Jon found himself deciding that his favorite styles were rock and jazz. Over the years, he had developed an eclectic collection that included classical, swing, country, blues and heavy metal. Artists, such as the Ramones, Frank Sinatra, the Jayhawks, John Mellencamp, Miles Davis and AC/DC, were a lifeline for him. When he became overwhelmed by his new life, or paralyzed by the past, music had the ability to calm him in a way that no one, except Abby, had ever been able to do.

While under the influence, Jon found, he had the confidence to wander, safely, into memories of Donoterase, the Centre and Mr. Raines. Initially, his intent was an analytical approach to his memories, hoping they would provide answers and keep the nightmares at bay. He told himself that the visits to the past were therapeutic and ignored the fact they were unsupervised. In his mind, the songs were his chaperones. They kept him grounded. They kept him from losing himself in the nightmares by reminding him he was no longer the boy who was dependent on Mr. Raines. Their sounds calmed him, and impressed upon him that the fear and pain of his childhood had been replaced with people who loved and respected him.

After a few sessions, Jon quickly realized his self-induced therapy had other advantages and, before long, they became more about protecting Abby, his family, and their future than it did about exiling nightmares. By viewing the events of his life, from a safe distance, he discovered details about his captors that had previously escaped him. When he combined those details with the information that had been shared with him, over time, by the Major and Ethan, Jon's memories suddenly seemed more powerful than he ever imagined. Within months, they led him to where he was - a passenger in Miss Parker's car, on his way back to the Centre.

Now that the first leg of his plan was underway, Jon was beginning to suffer from self doubt. Things had not gone exactly the way he had envisioned. He had not considered the fact Miss Parker might contact Jarod, or that the two would be willing to work together. Having his older self involved in his plan complicated things and, though he was still confident he could manage, Jon was beginning to wonder if Jarod's relationship with Miss Parker was the only thing he had underestimated.

Sitting in the backseat of the car, he forced himself to search his memories for the details he'd uncovered months before. He needed to reassure himself that they were real. He needed to convince himself the details that had spawned his plan weren't figments of his imagination, blank spaces haphazardly filled in by his subconscious. If they were, then his return to the Centre had the potential of endangering everyone he loved.

The car began to slow and, when it veered subtly to the right, he knew they were making a stop. Opening his eyes just enough to read the display on his watch, Jon sighed and tugged lightly at his earphones.

"After we fill up the gas tank, we are going to get some lunch," Jarod said, though the young man had not asked for an explanation.

Refusing to make eye contact with the Pretender, Jon pulled his backpack to his lap and began rummaging through the outside pocket. "I'm not hungry."

"Are you sure? It's my treat and they have soft-serve ice cream. This might be one of the last times you get to have fast food. Once you're back at the Centre, you will be eating nothing but nutritional supplements and . . ."

"I said, I'm not hungry," the young man hissed, finally looking up. "What part of that did you not understand?"

Despite the anger that filled the young man's dark eyes, Jarod met them with a stare that was steady and piercing. Neither man said a word until the car came to a complete stop. Then, before either Miss Parker or Jarod could react, Jon was out of the car and swinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"I'll be ready to leave in fifteen minutes," he announced, as he slammed the door.

Without looking back, the young man crossed the parking lot and followed the sidewalk to the far side of the restaurant.

"You were never this obstinate at that age," Miss Parker grumbled, when he was out of sight. "Why the hell is he?"

"I think Sydney might disagree with you about that fact. I definitely had my moments," Jarod answered.

"You may have had temper tantrums but I don't remember you ever acting like this," she countered.

Moving slowly out of the car, Jarod hesitated. Without facing her, he said, in a quiet voice, "You didn't know me at that age, Miss Parker. You were away."

Startled by the words, and the realization he was right, Miss Parker did not move from the driver's seat. She watched Jarod slide from the car then turned her eyes to watch him through the rear view mirror. He took the gas nozzle from the pump and slid it into the car's tank and, though he did not look up, his expression had softened considerably. Her insides twisted with guilt and, silently, she chastised herself for her mistake. She had reminded him of the almost twenty-year gap in their relationship. Not only had it changed them from close friends to huntress and prey, the period of time had left him feeling abandoned and betrayed.

"It's not like I expected him to spill his guts in the first five minutes of the trip," she said, finally emerging from the car, "but I thought we'd have some kind of conversation by now. If he doesn't take those damned earphones out soon, so help me, I'm going to rip them out myself."

"If it's any consolation," he answered, seemingly unfazed by the change in subject, "I don't think things are going the way he planned, either."

"Well, if he really wants to go back to that hell hole, maybe we should let him," she said, staring at the restaurant. "He's over eighteen and a genius. Who are we to question is judgement?"

"I know you don't mean that," he smiled, moving to her side. "You're just tired and frustrated."

When she didn't respond, Jarod frowned and slid his hand around the woman's arm. Turning her so that they were eye to eye, he said, "Trust me, Parker. Jon will come around. He's just flexing some muscle right now, trying to prove he's in control of the situation."

"As opposed to who? He's been calling the shots all along."

"I doubt he sees it that way," Jarod sighed.

Raising one eyebrow, she stared at him. "What does that mean?"

Shaking his head, Jarod let his hand slide from her arm and then moved to the back of the car. "He doesn't want me here. He wanted to be alone with you, remember?"

Drawing her eyes away from Jarod as he removed the nozzle from the gas tank and slipped it back in its cradle, Miss Parker looked across the parking lot. "So, do you think that's why he's been so tight lipped?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense."

* * *

Sitting cross legged on the grass, he reached into his pocket and retrieved his cell phone. He stared at the photo of Abby for a long minute, his thumb hovering over the key that would dial her number. The urge to call was so strong that he did not care that Abby was currently taking her Final Exam in Psychology, and would not be able to answer the phone. He wanted to hear her voice, even if it was only a recording on her voice mail message.

"Having trouble finding a signal?"

He looked up to find Miss Parker standing behind him, with a bottle of water in her hand. Shaking his head, he turned away and slid the phone into his pocket. As disappointed and annoyed as he was about being interrupted, there was a part of him that was grateful that she stopped him from making the call. He had promised Abby one call a day for as long as it was possible. If he had wasted that call on a voice mail message, just to relieve his own anxieties, she would never forgive him.

"If you need to make a call, you can use my phone," she offered.

He raised an eyebrow and glared at the woman standing over him. "Thanks, but I'd rather my friends were not used against me."

When he refused to take the bottle of water she held out to him, Miss Parker tossed it into his lap and lowered herself to the grass beside him. "Now, why would I do that? In case you've forgotten, I'm against you going back. In fact, I plan on making it very difficult for you in the coming days."

He lowered his head and stared at the condensation on the bottle, but said nothing.

"I made the offer because I thought you needed to talk to someone," she continued, though the young man was not facing her. "You sure as hell aren't doing much of it with me or Jarod."

Reaching into his pocket, he took out his iPod. As he began unwrapping the wires that led to the ear plugs, she put her hand over his, stopping the action.

"Not so fast," she said, squeezing his hand, "I came here to talk. That means you're going to listen and, when appropriate, you're going to respond. Understood?"

His eyes narrowed.

"I'll take that as a yes," she sighed. Slowly sliding her hand away from his, she asked, "Exactly how long are you planning on continuing this silent treatment?"

"How long is Jarod going to be traveling with us?"

"I see. Jarod thought his presence was the reason you hadn't spoken," she nodded. "I guess he was right."

"It's been known to happen."

She hesitated a moment, following his line of vision to where a young woman was trying to comfort a baby. With its head nestled on her neck, the child appeared to be sleeping until it shifted and let out a short whimper. Immediately, the woman began patting its back and whispering something only the child could hear.

"Jarod isn't here, now," she pointed out, facing him again. "It's just the two of us."

Slowly, Jon met her gaze, his eyes narrowing. "You're kidding, right?"

"No," she replied, gesturing around them with her arms. "You don't see him, do you?"

"And, you'll swear that anything I tell you stays between us. Is that right?"

"Of course."

"Just like you swore you wouldn't tell him about the telephone call. Just like you swore you were alone at the motel, when I arrived." Shaking his head, he looked back at the young mother. "You'll forgive me, Miss Parker, if I don't quite trust you."

"I see. So, you would rather arrive at the Centre, without ever telling me you reasons for going back."

He laughed, but did not face her. "Jarod will be gone before we get to the Centre. You and I both know that the closer we get, the more anxious he gets."

"He's a smart man."

Jon's smile faded but he did not respond. Instead, he continued watching the strangers in field in front of them. Beyond the woman were three older children, ranging from about eight to twelve, playing an energetic game of catch. Each using leather mitts, they tossed a baseball in rapid succession and, as Miss Parker watched, the oldest boy instinctively dove to his left. Snatching the ball out of midair, before it crossed the path of the mother and baby, the boy angrily flung the ball at his brother, yelling for the younger child to be more careful.

Miss Parker turned back toward Jon as she heard the younger boy yell he was sorry, hoping to continue the strained conversation. Surprised, she looked up and found that the young man was on his feet. His eyes wide, they darted between the young mother and the boys for a moment then, releasing a breath took a step back. Realizing he was being watched, he glanced at Miss Parker and returned to his spot in the grass.

When he was seated, Jon glared at the woman for a moment before facing forward again. "What do you want from me, Miss Parker?" he snapped. "Did you come out here just to pick an argument?"

Taking a deep breath, she looked back at the young woman and her baby. Though the child seemed to have quieted, the mother appeared to be exhausted and, for a split second, Miss Parker knew exactly how she felt.

"I want him gone." His voice took on the same deep, gravelly tone she had heard the day before and his expression hardened as he spoke. "I don't care where he goes or what he does when he gets there, but I just don't want him here. Do you understand? The longer he's around, the less time you and I have to discuss my plans."

"I see," she said, as he turned his eyes back on the young mother. "Have you considered the fact that Jarod may be tagging along because he plans on going back with you?"

Jon stared at her. "He's not."

"Are you sure about that?" she dared. "In case you haven't noticed, he feels he has an obligation from keeping people from getting hurt. And it doesn't take a genius to figure out that, despite the fact you're going back voluntarily, within minutes of stepping into the Centre, you're going to get hurt."

Rising to her feet, she took a step toward the restaurant, then stopped and faced him again. The boy's eyes had shifted back to the young mother but, even from where she stood, Miss Parker could see he was considering the possibilities of what she had suggested.

"Then tell him to go," he said softly. Looking up at her, Jon's expression was no longer harsh and combatant. "I mean it, Miss Parker. If Jarod wants to keep people from getting hurt, he needs to stay out of this. It's my fight."

"Why?" she pressed, crouching beside him. "What is this great plan of yours?"

Shaking his head, Jon turned back to watch the boys playing catch. "Just tell him to go."

* * *

"What do you have for me?"

"He was spotted at the bus station in Phoenix," the man replied. Holding out the disc, he waited until the other man inserted it into the electronic reader before continuing, "He bought a one-way ticket for Savannah. The bus is scheduled to arrive the day after tomorrow."

"And, I assume, the recovery team is now on their way to Georgia," he said, watching as the young man on the screen laughed with the woman at the ticket counter. Frowning, he leaned closer to the image long enough to convince himself of the boy's identity, then sat back in the chair.

"Yes, Sir."

"What about Lyle?"

"He and his team are still in Phoenix. They're hoping to find out more about where the boy was staying and what he was doing."

The man nodded and leaned back in the leather desk chair. "Good. The more we know, the easier it will be to capture and control him. Keep me posted."

* * *

"So, how did it go?"

"About as well as can be expected," she sighed, sliding into the booth. "You were right. Your being here has thrown him for a loop."

Jarod smiled and popped a french fry in his mouth. "I don't think those were my exact words."

"Maybe not, but the translation was right, wasn't it?"

Nodding, he watched her sip at her drink. When she stared out the window, he asked, "What did he say?"

"What we expected," she answered, facing him. "He wants you gone, and he's serious. He has no intention of revealing any of his plan while you're around."

He smiled sadly and nodded again. "Then, maybe it's time I go."

She shook her head. "Not yet. Give it until tomorrow."

"Why? You don't think he's going to have a change of heart, do you?"

"Probably not," Miss Parker admitted, reaching for her sandwich. "However, I do think that, after one more conversation with him, I might be able to figure out where you should go."

TBC

Feedback is a wonderful thing ;-)


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer in part 1

A/N: For those of you who are still following this story - I'm sorry for the long wait. My muse has been preoccupied with other stories lately and my RL has been a bit hectic. I'll try not to wait a year before posting another chapter ;-P

One Step Back

by imagine

Part 6?

It was still daylight when the car moved from the highway and turned on to the frontage road that ran parallel to it. Though Jon's protests did not begin until they were sitting in the motel parking lot, the knot in his stomach was twisting tighter and tighter by the second.

"I know what the two of you are trying to do and it's not going to work," he announced, when Jarod removed the key from the ignition. "You can build as many delays as you want into this trip, I will not be changing my mind about going back to the Centre."

Then, before anyone could respond, the young man slid from the vehicle and ducked behind the two-story building. After a moment of staring mutely at the spot he'd disappeared, Jarod and Miss Parker exited the car. When the brunette moved to follow Jon, the Pretender took her arm and shook his head.

"I'll go." Motioning toward the motel office, he added, "You get the rooms."

With a small nod of her head, Miss Parker started toward the office. Jarod waited until she was inside before taking a deep breath and following Jon's path to the back of the property. He found the young man sitting on a picnic table, his feet resting on the boards meant as seats, staring at the highway.

"Go away." Jon frowned at the older man as he stepped up onto the picnic bench and sat beside him. "I don't have anything to say to you, Jarod."

"But I have something to say to you." Jarod wrapped his hand around the younger man's wrist, as Jon tried to move away. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

As soon as the words were spoken, Jon froze in a position that was somewhere between standing and sitting, but did not comment on the annuoncment. Instead, he slowly brought his dark eyes to Jarod.

"In the morning, Parker will drive me into town so I can rent a car," Jarod continued, releasing his hold when Jon was, once again, sitting beside him. "The two of you can continue your trip without me."

"Is this a trick?"

The Pretender shook his head. "No. I'm really leaving, Jon."

"In that case, why are you waiting until morning?" he dared. "I'm sure the rent-a-car place is still open."

Ignoring the jab, Jarod forced himself to reply in calmly. "Before I go, I need to understand what you're doing so I can explain it to Dad and Emily. The last time you called home, you sounded happier than you've ever been. You said that life was good."

"It was," he agreed, sadly. "But things change."

Jarod nodded, waiting for the younger man to expand his comment. When Jon remained stonily silent, though, the Pretender pushed away his disappointment and asked, "What could have happened in three short months that would make you think condemning yourself to life at the Centre would be better?"

"I never said it would be better," he corrected, "but life at the Centre is _easier_ than life on the outside."

"Then you and I had completely different experiences because I didn't find anything easy about it," the Pretender replied. "I would much rather have the freedom to make my own choices. Real life experiences - even those that hurt - are infinitely better for a person's soul and self-respect than simulations."

Taking a deep breath, Jon glared at the older man. "I guess that just proves you're a better person than I am, doesn't it? You have more confidence, more intelligence, more determination than I do, Jarod. I'm just a pale reproduction, aren't I?"

Jarod flinched at the harsh, accusatory tone. "I never said any such thing."

"But, you have thought it."

The last thing Jarod wanted was for the discussion to escalate into an argument but, it was obvious that Jon had different plans. Sliding from the picnic bench, he moved in front of the younger man and stared at him. "You are wrong. I have never compared your talents to mine, nor would I ever want to. We are different people, with different experiences and loyalties to motivate us. Neither of us is better than the other."

"Nice speech," he muttered. "How many times have you rehearsed it?"

Jarod scowled at his younger self and shook his head. "Why are you so determined to pick a fight?"

"Why are you so determined to make my business yours?" he shot back. "I don't need your approval, you know. I have been a legal adult for some time now and, I am capable of making my own decisions."

"I am just trying to understand," he replied softly. "What made life on the outside so difficult that you would prefer life with Raines? What changed?"

"It doesn't matter," he sighed, rubbing his face.

"Of course it does." When Jon looked up, then shook his head, Jarod frowned. There was something about the expression on the younger man's face, and the way he refused to meet his gaze that made Jarod's insides twist. "Tell me."

"Why?" Jon's eyes flared with anger as they shot up to meet Jarod's gaze. "My life never concerned you before, Jarod, so don't expect me to believe it concerns you now."

He hesitated then, folded his arms over his chest. "You have every right to be angry with me but, what about Dad and Emily? Why are you doing this to them? Did they do something to push you away?"

"They haven't done anything."

"That's not the way they will see it," he argued. "Unless you tell me your reasons for going back, Dad and Emily will have no choice but to blame themselves. Is that what you want?"

"My decision has nothing to do with them," he said, his voice suddenly softening.

"No? You left their house in the middle of the night, with no explanation," he countered, watching the boy's confusion. Despite the fact his tactic seemed to be working, Jarod was beginning to feel guilty for using his father and sister against the younger man.

"I explained all of that. Dad said he understood."

"And, now, Dad will think you were lying. He will blame himself. He will think you were in trouble and he didn't recognize the signs. Emily will . . ."

"You can't let them!"

Suddenly, the young man was standing in front of Jarod, his eyes wide and his voice filled with panic. If what Jarod was saying was true, he had miscalculated the affect his leaving would have on his father and sister. If what Jarod was saying was true, he would be hurting the only people, beside Abby, who had ever even tried to care about him.

"I have never lied to Dad or Emily, Jarod. I swear, my decision has nothing to do with them and, if you care for them half as much as I know you do, you will make them understand."

"Understand what?" he pressed. "I have no idea what your real reasons are for going back to the Centre. You keep saying it's to make your life easier but I . . ."

Jarod suddenly fell silent. For a long moment, his eyes skirted across the boy's face, his interest increasing each time the young man averted his gaze. Slowly dropping his hands to his side, he took a step closer to Jon and gently captured his chin in his hand. When the Pretender found his voice, the angry and taunting tone was replaced with an uneasy calm.

"Your decision to return has nothing to do with life at the Centre being easier. It has to do with making someone's life on the outside better, doesn't? Who are you trying to protect?"

Jon suddenly stiffened and took a step back, freeing himself from Jarod's hold. "I told you . . ."

"I know what you told me," he interrupted, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "But I'm not Dad or Emily, or even Miss Parker. You have never had trouble lying to me, have you?"

"You don't know me well enough to accuse me of lying about anything. You don't have the right."

"Maybe not but, if I can see through your act, so will Raines." Crossing his arms in front of him, Jarod purposely blocked Jon's path as the younger man started to move toward the motel. "You are going back in search of a fight. I can see it in your eyes and in the way you move."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"The old man will be suspicious the moment he is told you are on Centre property. He is not going to welcome you with open arms and tell you all is forgiven, Jon. He is going to punish you for leaving, in the first place, and he won't care about the scars he leaves in his wake."

"Get out of my way," he hissed, pushing the older man to the side. "Our conversation is over."

"No, it's not," he countered, grabbing Jon by the arm and swinging him to face him. "What is so important that you are willing to give Raines permission to hurt you?"

"Since when do you care if I'm hurt?" Jon angrily shrugged out of Jarod's hold. "From the moment you handed me over to the Major, you have done your best to distance yourself from me. Sure, you went through the motions - asked me if I was all right, tried to make conversation when it was necessary - but you never made me believe you meant any of it, Jarod."

Tears welled in his eyes and, for a moment, Jarod was speechless. When the young man grunted in disgust and began to turn away, however, the Pretender stepped in front of him. "I'm sorry if you never believed I cared about you, because I did. I promise you, Jay . . ."

"Stop with the promises, Jarod. I don't want them. I don't need them anymore," he said in a too quiet voice. "In a few months, none of it will matter anyway."

"Why? What happens in a few months?"

Jon laughed and shook his head. "When it happens, I'll let you know."

"So, that's it?" he asked, as the younger man moved around him. "You're going back to the Centre because I didn't know how to build a relationship with you?"

"My going back has nothing to do with you, Jarod," he said tiredly. "And our relationship isn't important enough for me to cross the street, let alone cross the country to fight for it."

"So, you are going back to fight," he murmured, purposely pushing back the rest of the young man's words. "There are other options, Jay. There are people who are willing to fight beside you. All you need to do is ask."

Abruptly, Jon spun in place, his dark eyes taking on a defiant spark as they found Jarod's. "Assuming you're right - which you're not - who would you expect me to ask for help? You?"

"Yes."

The younger man laughed and turned away. After putting a short distance between them, he faced his brother again, not bothering to hide the frustration in his voice. "Why would I trust you, Jarod? Give me one good reason."

"I'm your . . ."

"Yes?" he interrupted. "You're my **_what_**?"

"I am your _family_."

"Nice save," he muttered sarcastically, "but your generalization just proves my point. You have no idea who we are to each other."

"Why is it so difficult for you to accept that I care about you? Why do we need to label the relationship?"

The younger man smiled sadly and shook his head. "You're the genius. Figure it out."

Jarod sighed and took a step toward Jon, only to have the man match the movement, keeping a distance of about thirty yards between them. For the first time in his life, he was at a loss. He had no idea how to make the situation right and, the more he stared at Jon, the more he wondered how he had let things get so bad.

"For what it's worth, I never wanted our relationship to be this strained," he said quietly, when Jon turned away. "I thought I was doing the right thing when I left you with Dad and Emily."

Jon took a deep breath and, glancing over his shoulder said, "Go back to the motel, Jarod. We are done talking."

After a long silence, and realizing he could think of nothing more to say, Jarod reluctantly started to obey the request. He took a few steps then, pivoted and stared at the younger man. Despite the fact that his back was to the Pretender, Jon's arms were tightly crossed over his chest and his shoulders were slumped forward.

As Jarod watched, the urge to return to the boy's side and force a continuation of the discussion grew but, so did the fear that it would completely sever their tenuous relationship. With a heavy sigh, he turned away and began his trek to where Miss Parker was waiting.

* * *

She sat in the room, staring at the few items left to be carried to the car. By this time tomorrow she would be done with her classes and on the road for Colorado. The place she'd lived with Jay would become home to someone else.

Moving to the table, she reached into the box and lifted the photo he'd taken months before at their private celebration. They'd gone to the park and, like children, they'd spent hours playing on the swings and slides. She smiled, remembering how much pleasure he had taken in dangling by his legs from the monkey bars.

"_You're acting like an eight-year-old," she laughed. _

"_Not quite," he replied. Reaching out, he took Abby's hand and pulled her closer. Then, while still hanging upside down, he cupped her face with his hands and captured her mouth with his. When he released her, Jon slid his thumb over her lips and whispered, "You have made me happier than I ever imagined was possible."_

"_So, you're okay with this? Because, if you're not . . ."_

_Immediately, he dropped from the bars, effectively interrupting the woman._

"_I am more than okay with this," he insisted, suddenly taking on a serious tone. "I thought it was obvious, but I don't want you to have any doubts. I love you. We will do this together. I promise."_

Absently, she traced the outline of his face with her forefinger.

Though the sun was just beginning to set, Abby sighed and crossed to the bedroom. She slid between the sheets, bringing the blankets to her face as she curled up on his side of the bed. With the photo in one hand and his pillow pressed against her body, she stared at the phone on the night stand and silently willed it to ring.

He had promised to call every night and, until she heard his voice, until she knew he was safe, she knew she would not sleep. In the back of her mind she knew that, eventually, the phone calls would stop coming but she refused to acknowledge that particular fear. At the moment, all she could deal with was that he was safe tonight.

* * *

Jon waited until he saw Jarod's silhouette cross into the parking lot before retrieving his cell phone. He glanced at his watch and, after taking a moment to compose himself, hastily punched the number he'd been itching to dial for hours.

"Jay?"

Her voice sounded so soft, so unsure that his voice caught in his throat for a second. "I'm here, Baby."

"Are you all right?"

He smiled and nodded, glancing at the motel as he moved back to the picnic bench. "Except for the fact that I miss you, I'm fine. Are you all right?"

"No. I'm a wreck," she admitted. "Come home."

He heard her voice crack and felt his insides clench. His conversation with Jarod had taken more out of him than he expected. When he spoke, his voice came out as a whisper, "Abby, you know that I can't come home. Not yet."

"Yes, you can. Please, Jay, we . . . need you."

Her words were broken by sobs and heavy gasps for breath as she tried to regain control of her voice. He waited, using the time to wipe his own tears away while silently chastising himself for causing her pain.

Leaving her was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do but he believed it was for the best. All day he'd wanted to hear her voice, to talk to her as if none of this were happening and pretend that they were apart only for the day. One day at a time was his plan and it was deteriorating as quickly as their conversation.

"Abby, what happened?" he murmured. "When we said . . . goodbye . . . you understood what I was doing. You told me you understood."

"I'm trying," she sighed. "I promise, Jay, I'm trying but I'm scared."

"You don't need to be scared," he promised. "As long as you follow the plan, and leave immediately after your last class, you'll be safe."

"I'm not afraid for me. I'm afraid for you. I'm afraid of losing you, of losing. . . . everything."

He hesitated long enough to wipe his face with his hands. When he brought the phone back to his ear, his hands were shaking. "You are not going to lose me."

"I already have," she said softly. "At least, I've lost a part of you."

He hesitated, trying to determine if the weight of her words were deliberate. "You haven't lost me."

"Yes, I have."

"Abby, what are you trying to say?" he whispered, hesitantly. "Did something happen to . . ."

"What if it had?" she asked, purposely interrupting him. "What if I told you that I'd gone to the doctor and he told me there was a problem? What would you do?"

His heart jumped into his throat. "What kind of problem? Are you all right? If something happened you need to tell me."

"That's just it," she pressed, her words becoming more distorted by her panic. "A week from now, I won't be able to tell you. What if I need you, and you're not here? What if . . . "

"Abby!"

His fear startled her into silence and, suddenly, she felt ashamed. These were not the things she had planned to say to him. She had never intended to frighten him and, until that moment, she had not realized the things she'd been saying to him. Her eyes searched the image of his face in the photo she held and, swallowing hard, Abby admitted softly, "Nothing has happened, Jay. I'm fine. We're fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Relief washed through him for only a moment before the full impact of the conversation hit him. She knew they were apart because he was trying to keep their family safe. She knew he wanted to be with her and, whether it had been premeditated or not, she had tried to manipulate him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "You've only been gone twelve hours and I'm already acting like a shrew. I didn't think it would be this hard."

He heard the tears in her voice and took a deep breath, hoping to keep them from infecting his own words. "I know. I'm sorry, too."

"Things will be better once I get used to not having you here," she told him, though she doubted she sounded convincing.

"Don't get too used to it," he smiled, forcing a lightness to his voice. "I'll be back in a few months."

She hugged the pillow and told herself that he believed what he was saying. She owed it to him to do the same. "And I'll be waiting."

Though she'd tried to hide it, Jon heard her hesitation and raked the fingers of his free hand through his hair. He had not expected conversations with Abby to be this taxing. Suddenly, he could not help wondering what else he might have not considered.

"I wish there was another way to do this," he admitted.

"Me, too."

"I have to go," he whispered, glancing toward the motel. "Jarod and Miss Parker are probably wondering where I am."

"Let them wonder."

"I don't want them to come looking for me and overhear us talking."

Abby sighed and took a deep breath. She'd heard the distracted tone in his voice enough to recognize that he was trying to reconcile something in his mind. Under normal circumstances, she would have asked him to share his thoughts but, these were not normal circumstances and Abby was afraid of what he might tell her. "Will you call me tomorrow?"

"Of course," he smiled. "Hearing your voice, even if it's yelling at me, is still the best sound in the world to me."

* * *

"Judging by your face, I'm going to take a wild guess and say things didn't go well."

Jarod shook his head and moved into the open room. Crossing to the King sized bed in the middle of the room, he sat down then immediately stood again and moved to the window. The anxiety he had felt while talking with Jon had intensified, rather than diminished, and Jarod had no idea how to deal with the excess energy.

"Where is he?" she asked.

"In the field, behind the building."

She stared at him, watching intently as Jarod moved back to the bed. In a matter of seconds, he was on his feet again and in the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. When he returned to the room and lowered his head to his hands, she asked, "What happened out there?"

Slowly Jarod raised his gaze to hers and, in an even tone, relayed the conversation he'd had with his younger self. Miss Parker listened patiently, noticing the emotions that flickered on his face for only a second before the Pretender attempted to mask them. When she sat beside him, he rose from the bed and returned to the window, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I tried to get through to him," he murmured. "I really did try."

"I know, but you don't know that you didn't succeed," she replied. When Jarod looked at her, over his shoulder, she crooked an eyebrow and crossed to his side. "Don't assume he wasn't listening to you. He might just need time to digest it all."

"That's the problem. We're running out of time, Parker," he sighed, facing the window again.

"We still have a few days."

Jarod shook his head and faced the woman, leaning backward on the windowsill as he spoke. "It's not enough."

"It has to be."

"Do you really think you're going to be able to get him to change his mind?"

"I won't know until I try," she sighed. "And, while I'm trying, you're going to be retracing his steps. His reasons for going back to the Centre must be in his recent past."

Jarod nodded and pushed away from the window. "I'll start at the university. We know he was auditing classes. He must have interacted with some of the other students."

"I'm sure he has. It would help if I could get my hands on his cell phone for a few minutes."

"Jon is smart enough to delete the call logs, Parker, and I doubt he would have programmed a speed call list."

"Maybe not, but he has at least one photo saved to the memory."

Jarod frowned and looked at the woman.

"Your little brother has a girlfriend," she said.

* * *

Almost an hour after he had disconnected the call with Abby, her voice was still echoing in his head, begging him to come home. Even when he tried to concentrate on her words, later in their conversation, when their emotions had calmed, his mind brought him back to the moment he'd been trying to avoid.

"_Come home. Please, Jay, we . . . need you."_

She'd sounded so desperate, so frightened, that it took all of his energy to refuse her. And, once he had, he found he didn't have enough left to combat the guilt it spawned.

Wiping his eyes, Jon looked up and, for the first time, noticed the darkness around him. At some point, during his conversation with Abby, the sun had completely set. The temperature had dropped considerably, enhanced by a light breeze from the West. Glancing to his right, he stared at the lights of the motel. Though he knew Miss Parker and Jarod were waiting for him, the soft glow was comforting in the thick darkness.

Pushing himself to his feet, the young man crossed the shallow field and steeled himself for what might be waiting for him. He doubted Jarod would try to initiate another heart-to-heart but he didn't have the same confidence regarding Miss Parker.

He found the brunette sitting in one of the white plastic chairs that decorated the walk way that ran in front of the rooms. When she saw him approaching, she glanced in his direction, then took a sip from the plastic glass in her hand, and turned her focus back to the road that ran in front of the buildings..

"What are you drinking?"

She looked at the beverage and shrugged. "Dr. Pepper, I think. There's another one in my room, if you want it. Jarod got them out of the vending machine before he left."

"Jarod left? When?"

"Don't get excited," she sighed, frowning at the young man as he scanned the parking lot. "He just went to get dinner. He'll be back in about half an hour. I hope you like Chinese, because that's what we're having."

"I'm not really hungry," he replied, tiredly. "I'm just going to take a shower and . . ."

"Fine. Take your shower but, I don't care if you're hungry or not, you will be eating with us." She took another sip of her drink, then looked up at the young man. The muscles in his jaw had stiffened and his mouth was pressed into a tight straight line. She shook her head and looked back at the parking lot. "Save it. I am neither impressed nor intimidated by your talent for facial expressions. The bottom line is that Jarod is leaving tomorrow. You won. The least you could do is have a meal with him before he goes."

"And, if I don't?"

Slowly, Miss Parker rose from her seat. Her eyes sparkled as they locked on to his but he saw nothing comforting in the gaze. In fact, until he saw the small smile of satisfaction on her lips, he did not realize he had taken a step away from the woman.

"If you have any hope of having any allies in this war you've planned against the Centre, I would suggest you pick your battles very carefully, Jon," she warned.

His eyes flashed in defiance. "Who said I was planning anything?"

"Oh, please, just stop pretending, okay? You're not as good at it as you think you are," she growled, returning to her seat. "We all know you're not going back because you miss Raines' bedtime stories. It's the only reason we're here."

"What?"

She clinked the ice cubes in her glass and took another swallow of her drink before looking up at him. "You're a bright kid. We know you well enough to know that you have a damned good reason for what you're doing. When you're ready to tell us, we'll be ready to help."

"What if I don't need, or want, your help?"

"What if you do?" Miss Parker smiled and looked back at the parking lot. Before Jon could respond, she added, "Now, go take your shower. Jarod will be back soon and I don't like cold Chinese food."

* * *

Miss Parker forced herself to wait almost ten minutes before entering the room Jarod and Jon would be sharing. Quickly crossing the room, she listened to the steady stream of water running in the bathroom while scanning the desk and bed stand for Jon's cell phone. She found forty three cents in change, his wallet and wristwatch, but there was no sign of the phone.

Frustrated, and very aware that the young man could emerge from the bathroom at any moment, she grabbed his backpack and methodically searched the outside compartments. The flip phone was in the front pocket with his iPod and, as soon as her hand slid around the object, she let out a sigh of relief.

Splitting her attention between the bathroom door and the phone, she moved quickly through the device's menu until she found three saved photos. Each of the images was of the same young woman. Red hair, green eyes and a light patch of freckles across her forehead.

The first of the photos was obviously taken without the girl's knowledge. Curled on the floor, with a blanket drawn to her shoulders, the mop of red locks obscured most of her face and, yet, Miss Parker had no trouble determining that the woman was smiling.

In the other two of the photos, the woman's face was bright and, her smile was broad, giving the impression of someone much younger than a college student. Miss Parker flipped through each of the three images, then at the closed door and sighed. Jon not only had a girlfriend, he was in love with her.

If - when - he found out she'd invaded his privacy and, once again, betrayed his trust, Jon would be furious. But, despite the tirade that would be inflicted upon her later, Miss Parker knew that the identity of the woman trapped in his cell phone was the key to keeping Jon safe. Before she could convince herself otherwise, she pressed the series of buttons that sent the images to Jarod's cell phone, as well as her own.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, as she returned Jon's phone to his backpack. "You gave me no other choice."

* * *

Lyle pressed the button that lowered the window of the Town Car. Keeping his eyes focused on the iron benches that adorned the grassy area between the administration building and the student union, he nodded when he was ready for the man's report.

"The building is locked," the man said, nervously. "The guards at the front door told me that there are guards and dogs roaming the halls at regular intervals, to prevent anyone from infiltrating the offices."

"And you believed him?"

He nodded. "I saw the dogs."

Lyle sighed and looked at the man beside him. "Did you show him the photo?"

Again, the man nodded. "The guard doesn't recognize him but admitted that the only students he would recognize are those that caused him some kind of problem."

Taking the photo, Lyle stared at the frowning image of Gemini and shook his head. "He's too smart to call attention to himself."

"Yes, Sir."

With a heavy sigh, he looked out at the campus and watched a group of students crossing into the library. "Show his picture around campus, the library, and any restaurant or bar within walking distance," he ordered. "Maybe we'll get lucky and someone will give us a lead."

"And, if they don't?"

"Then, we'll come back tomorrow and search the administration files. Someone, somewhere, knows where he is and I intend to find them."

TBC

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